


Unforgettable

by Wintergrew



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Amnesia, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hiatus, Immortality, M/M, Memory Loss, New York City, POV Victor Nikiforov, Rating May Change, victor is immortal
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-02
Updated: 2017-09-04
Packaged: 2018-12-22 18:04:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11972745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wintergrew/pseuds/Wintergrew
Summary: Immortals have existed for as long as humanity has, yet there is a reason why no one has proven their existence. In order to keep the balance between Mortals and Immortals, every few days Mortals completely forget every encounter they've had with an Immortal.Over the years, this was never much of a problem for Immortal Victor Nikiforov. That is, until he met a particularly unforgettable Mortal that he was determined to be remembered by.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I haven't really written a fanfiction in a very long time, but suddenly I had an idea and decided to roll with it. I haven't ever posted anything to ao3, so I'm kind of nervous and excited to see how this goes. Please, please tell me what you think!! 
> 
> This first chapter is a short prologue that is exposition to set up the lore and basic premise of the story, while the next ones will go straight into the plot.
> 
> I plan on changing the story to at least an M or E rating, but for now I'm leaving it unrated. I also hate giving too much of the story away, but since I know people tend to be wary of angsty premises like this unless they confirm a happy ending, I tagged it as such. More tags to be added later!

Immortality is a curse.

To be fair, perhaps it is also a blessing as well. Immortals are granted nice places to live in. One would never know it, but most cities and and communities have housing of some sort for Immortals to live in. In some rural places there are large mansions, in many cities beautiful high rise penthouses, and in some places even a few yachts are anchored by the seaside. Any Immortal is welcome to any of these housings for as long or short as they wish on their eternal travels.

There is also the benefit that fellow Immortals are usually pretty nice, too. It’s questionable as to whether that Immortality is granted to those who would get along with one another, or if Immortals themselves are simply aware that other Immortals are the only ones they are stuck with for the rest of their eternal existence. They have nice company, nice living spaces, and they are also granted access to unlimited currency of the land, through their networking with one another. They have no real rules or restrictions on what they can do and have only minimal potential repercussions.

Of course, there is also the benefit that one avoids the seemingly inevitable fate of death. Frozen in time from the moment they are made Immortal, they go centuries without aging a single day. They never die of natural causes and they never get the mildest illness. They can be injured, albeit temporarily. If you strike a knife through them it will puncture their body just like anyone else, but it will cause no damage, instantly healing upon being pulled out. Burns heal and fall off them like ash, explosions have little effect, and any sort of amputation is fruitless--it is like their body is made of a strong magnet, keeping themselves whole. They are physically incapable of death, even if they themselves wish for it.

Mankind has sought after immortality such as this for all of civilization. People have traversed thousands of miles for Fountains of Youth, bathed in the blood of virgins, searched for potential immortality wherever they could to find it. Yet, despite Immortals existing alongside Mortals since the very beginning, they have never discovered their existence nor their secrets.

It is important for the balance of things that Immortals true existence must be kept unknown. For humans to find out that a select few of their kind have this gift would cause mass hysteria. There would be an outcry, people would be obsessed with figuring out how to become like them, fight wars for them. Immortals could be vilified, cast out and hated for not sharing their secret, sharing the path to immortality. It wouldn’t be out of hatred and selfishness to Mortals--no Immortal knows how they became the way they are nor do they have a full recollection of their previous Mortal life. Perhaps, eventually, Mortals would realize this. So they would turn to science, digging up their brains, their bodies, their everything. They wouldn’t die, but they would still feel pain. Perhaps those who weren’t studied would be enslaved, they would be a perpetual workforce that would never die or run out no matter how overworked. 

Although Immortals can’t die and have regenerative abilities, it’s not as if they are superhuman in other ways. They have the strength and agility of normal humans, and although one could dedicate their life to training, they cannot go beyond human limits. They are greatly outnumbered, and they could very easily be overpowered by the sheer numbers and weapons of the rest of humanity.

Conversely, perhaps Immortals could conquer and rule. If enough of them got together, surely they could find some group of Mortals to rule. They can’t die, so surely they could take out a town at the very least, no matter how hard the Mortals fight back, the Immortals could keep going. One could even declare themselves a God, and if they had enough charisma, maybe Mortals would believe them. At the very least, one could get a dedicated cult. Most Immortals, perhaps by some sort of Higher influence, are very passive, nonviolent people, but if the option was on the table, it would be hard to imagine that at least one wouldn’t attempt it.

Regardless of which side oppressed the other, there are few potential circumstances where Mortals and Immortals could live in peaceful coexistence.

It is for that reason Immortals are cursed. 

Of course, as Immortals do not know the true nature of their own existence themselves, no one knows if it is actually a curse. In the mind of some Immortals, it is a protective spell by the Powers that Be. To some especially nihilistic Immortals, it’s something entirely coincidental that has nothing to do with anything beyond another quirk their kind have to deal with.

Immortals get to live in the world forever. They can do whatever a Mortal can. They can talk to Mortals, buy things from them, hurt them, befriend them, even fall in love with them. Mortals can even reciprocate, but only for a short time. Not “short” meaning their temporary life--much shorter than that.

Every few days, the exact time varying from a couple days to about ten, every memory a Mortal has of an Immortal completely fades.

It isn’t just that one’s memory fades, their entire existence is seemingly retconned away. They fade from photographs, an injury caused by them would be remembered as an accident, and everything they did together would be re-remembered in a way that excludes them. Immortals get to keep their possessions, but shopkeepers memory of selling things to them would fade.

Immortals cannot be discovered this way. Even if one blasted their existence to the entire world, mere days later the Mortals would forget. It both protects them from Mortals and discourages them from attempting to overly exploit them. Sure, some could use the fact that they will be forgotten to lead them to commit crimes without ever having a record, but after enough years of the same thing, the excitement fades.

Immortals can affect things, but they cannot have a legacy. They cannot hold a job, as they would likely be forgotten about before they even received a call for an interview. They can’t make a meaningful, lasting relationship with a Mortal. Instead, they have their permanent network of fellow Immortals, the only people who they can have a lasting relationship with, with whom they can wander and observe the world slightly less aimlessly.

This was never a problem for Victor Nikiforov. He was perfectly content seeing the world on his own for all eternity. When he needed human contact, he had his loose connection of fellow Immortals to fall back upon. He enjoyed observing Mortals and how their society changed greatly over the years, but he never particularly desired to be a part of them, much less have a relationship worth being remembered by one.

That is, until the fateful day when he met Yuuri Katsuki.


	2. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was also incredibly stupid, he thought to himself. He shouldn’t be this infatuated with a Mortal. Especially some vomit encrusted one that got himself drunkenly kicked out of a night club.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo the first chapter and real part of the PLOT. I really hope you all enjoy it. Please comment any thoughts!
> 
> As it should be in every universe, Victor and Yuuri meet while Yuuri is shitfaced drunk! Though I want to clarify upfront to those who may be wary: there's nothing remotely sexual that will happen, so you don't need to worry about consent issues, etc.

Victor Nikiforov has been to New York City countless times. If asked, he would probably say that it was his favorite place in the United States, despite the fact that he was much more of a European soul. He’d always been a fan of large cities, but lately, he’d been trying to find places he hadn’t yet been to. He has been so accustomed to the city life for decades, but recently he found himself wanting to see some quieter scenery. His recentmost travels had been to northern Washington State, experiencing the shoreline and mountains miles north of Seattle. If it were up to him, perhaps he’d visit some Pacific island next. A quiet one, where he could experience a simpler beauty. A place that might not exist for much longer, unlike himself. Big cities like Moscow, London, and New York will always be there, so why not see the natural beauty of the world before mankind destroys it?

Ultimately, he ended up in Manhattan.

Christophe Giacometti, like Victor, was also a man who liked to wander. Unlike Victor, however, he liked to wander with company. It wasn’t as though Victor didn’t like company, and he had quite a lot of fun with his fellow Immortals over the years, especially Chris, it’s just that he never really felt that he needed anyone else. Chris argued that it was likely because Victor was still a relatively young Immortal, still enjoying his freedom to see the world without consequence. 

Unlike Chris who was centuries old Victor hadn’t yet lived long enough to declare that.

To be fair, Victor wasn’t sure if he actually meant it, or if Chris was simply trying to guilt him into joining him for a time in New York.

And Victor was starting to miss him. He liked New York, enough to warrant another visit. He figured staying around with him for a while in their Manhattan location wouldn’t harm anything. The Immortal housing there was one of the nicest, afterall. He wouldn’t stay too terribly long. He was already in America with the proper fake identification and currency. He would see the city, spend time with Chris, and then be on his way.

High up over the city in a Central Park South penthouse, the two story apartment was exactly what one would expect for a stronghold for Immortals. It was grand and lavishly decorated and very...Chris. Chris easily spent the most time there out of every Immortal and left his mark upon it. 

It was decorated with overpriced art with very clear innuendo--“artistically erotic” as Chris would like to call it. Victor enjoyed his fair share of art and was by no means shy about his own high class taste, but it was a little too much for him. He wondered how much stolen money it took to decorate this.

Everything Immortals own was through illegal means in some way or another. They couldn’t hold jobs due to the lack of memory Mortals could have for them. Being around literally since the beginning of history, Immortals were savvy at finding ways to blend in and live comfortable and the more they learned to do so, the more they shared with fellow Immortals. They were able to counterfeit important documents like birth certificates, driver’s licenses, passports to help make the world accessible. They both counterfeited the global currencies as well as stole enough to get by--if the counterfeiting or theft was caught, it’s not like their names would appear on a Most Wanted list...at least, not for very long.

They found through trial and error over the years that if they bought a residence in cash using a fake name and credentials, the fake identities name would not be erased. Sure, the seller would never remember the exact face, but the name would remain in the deed. They found that if they had the bills paid in cash for years in advance, they could also keep all the modern accessabilities. Contact could be kept by sending letters without mention of any names and addressed to Immortal houses addressed to “Current Residence.” As long as no one opened the letter and they were only seen by the eyes of the Immortal who wrote it, there was nothing about them that would need to be erased or retconned away from existence.

Cellphones proved to be the most difficult modern technology to maintain. With the introduction of smartphones, most found it easiest to simply to obtain one and use the wifi service and messaging apps. Unlike before, when Immortals could only guarantee meeting another by scheduling to meet each other or by luck, this made it much easier than ever before for Immortals to maintain their connections to one another, and much easier for Chris and Victor to arrange this time together.

“A glass of champagne?” Chris asked, as Victor settled in. He arrived in New York just a few hours prior, and had done nothing but take a cab and settled into a room. He had his options, only Chris and himself were currently staying in this residence. He didn’t have that much on him to settle in, not because he didn’t own a lot, but because he tended to keep his possessions in Immortal housing as opposed to having to lug it along everywhere. Currently, most of his things were stored in Saint Petersburg. There was no point bringing everything to this already decorated penthouse that Chris would never let him redesign. 

“I’m surprised you’re wanting to drink in at home my first night here,” Victor responded coyly, raising an eyebrow. Chris was sitting in their grand living room, with a glass wall behind him that showed a spectacular view of the sunset over the city skyline. It was beautiful, and to be perfectly honest, he wouldn’t mind enjoying this place for the night.

“Who said we were only going to have one drink,” Chris retaliated, pouring champagne in a tall crystal glass for Victor, identical to his own. “Think of this as a warmup.”

...

Two glasses of champagne and several shots in, Victor ended up in some overly priced and overly crowded all male night club. A rather small one. Or perhaps it only seemed small due to the large number of people.

It was crowded, a little too crowded for Victor’s taste. There were too many people to dance properly, too over flooded and loud to really talk to anyone. As much as he wouldn’t mind finding a nice looking guy to go home with, he very quickly decided that in this club it probably wasn’t worth it. So instead he chose to stand next to the crowded bar, pushed up against several other people whose drunken advances he ignored, slightly disappointed that he didn’t stay behind to enjoy the penthouse.

He didn’t know where Chris was, but it’s not like he had to really worry about him. A perk of being Immortal and all. Either of them could get shitfaced all they wanted, but it’s not like an Immortal can get themselves alcohol poisoning or killed in some drunken bar fight.

The music kept blasting which made it impossible to hear, the flashing lights in the dimly lit room made it difficult to see. All this reinforced his stance to not attempt to find Chris. Part of him pined for the late night parties of half a century ago. They weren’t nearly this sweaty. And for all the people and high tech layouts, there sure wasn’t much interesting that ever seemed to go on.

Sighing, he decided that he had enough here. The wall of people might as well be no one, in which case he would be better off drinking in the penthouse alone. He reached to pay the bartender--in cash, of course--and decided to just go home. Chris would probably end up at some other person’s apartment, anyway, if he wasn’t at one already.

That is, if he was able to make it out through this wall of bobbing people. Surely this had to be against fire code. The alcohol had hit him, so this was going to be a bigger struggle than he wanted to deal with.

Until it seemed the bouncers were carving a path in front of him. Two of them, very large in stature, carrying someone that he couldn't make out. He couldn’t make the person out, but he wouldn’t be surprised if it was Chris. Curiosity spiking, he pushed his way forward to see better.

When he made it to the exit to see the recently kicked out young man on the ground, he could clearly see that it wasn’t Chris just by the smaller stature.

It was then he also realized that the man didn’t have any pants on, just a collared shirt and boxer briefs. He was on his hands and knees puking. He probably had no possessions, given his pants were gone and all.

Part of Victor thought that he shouldn’t get involved. This man was just one Mortal in a city of millions, and he had no idea what led to him being kicked out in the first place. He should just go about his way and go home. Some cop on patrol would probably notice him.

What was he kidding, he couldn’t leave this young man alone at 1 am and possibly half-conscious in the middle of New York City.

“Are you alright,” Victor asked, crouching down, trying to avoid the puddle of vomit. He put his hand on the man’s shoulder, perhaps a little too forward, but he figured maybe he needed the comfort. The man, clearly drunk, looked up at him. The drunken man stared a moment. Then he gasped.

“Am I dead?!” he wailed, tears pooling in his eyes. He got up off of his hands, onto his knees where he allowed himself to drunkenly sob into his hands. His speech was slurred and with an accent that he guessed was probably Japanese. “I-I drank too much and I died didn’t I?”

“You seem to be very much alive to me,” Victor responded. 

“I-If I’m alive, why would I see you?” he sobbed even harder.

Victor was already too tipsy to deal with this.

“Hey, do you want me to call you a cab or something?” he asked, trying to keep his annoyance down, “If you give me your address I don’t mind paying.”

The man stopped sobbing for a minute and removed his hands from his eyes. It was then a car went by, flashing light into the man’s face, allowing Victor to get a clear look at his appearance. As he guessed, the man was most definitely Japanese. His face was also flushed red from alcohol and wet from both sweat and tears, with a little bit of vomit still in the corner of his mouth.

Despite that, he was the most beautiful man Victor had ever seen in his more than a century of existence. Maybe Victor was drunker than he thought.

“A-A cab?” the man asked, in a much more innocent sounding voice.

“Yeah,” Victor responded, his voice suddenly more gentle than before, yet still tinged with slight annoyance and sarcasm, “You know, like New York is known for? What’s your address?”

“We’re in New York?”

“Why wouldn’t we be?”

“I thought I was dead.”

“No, you’re just extremely drunk and got kicked out of a club. I am a perfectly alive person trying to help you out.”

“O-Oh,” the man stammered. Even in the darkness, Victor could tell that the man’s already red face had turned several shades redder. “I-I just thought, y’know, since you’re so…”

“So?”

“Etheral.”

Oh.

Now it was Victor’s turn to turn red.

The man threw up again.

It was clear that this man was too drunk to give him an address.

Victor should just find some hotel or hostel or something to pay for him to stay the night in. He would write a note telling him what happened. Maybe leave a wad of hundred dollar bills to help him get home and make up for whatever he had in his pants pockets. He’d go about his way, never knowing this man’s name and before Victor would know it, enough years would pass that this Mortal man would already be long gone.

The fact that there was apparent mutual physical attraction was irrelevant. He would never consider taking advantage of someone this drunk, and anyway regardless was too drunk and incoherent. He probably wouldn’t remember him the next morning given his level of alcohol consumption. Even if they didn’t, in a few days he’d….

“You can stay in my place tonight,” Victor let out quickly, despite his better judgement. The other man’s eyes got big and his face turned even redder. “N-No, I don’t mean it like that, I mean. I have an extra room you can stay in. It’d be safe for you, and I can help you get home or contact someone tomorrow morning.”

If the other man was smart, he would know better than to trust some stranger on the street. He should say no. Part of Victor begged that he’d say no.

“If not, I can find you a hotel room or something for you to stay for the night--”

“I want to go with YOU,” the man smiled and nearly tackled Victor, wrapping his arms around him. He was also probably getting vomit on him as well, but Victor couldn’t be bothered by it. Perhaps it was because it had been too long since he’d been with anyone, and perhaps it was because he drank too much, but all he could think of was how nice and warm this smelly, disheveled man felt around him.

Victor let the man keep his arms around him the entire cab ride home. 

He was asleep, or perhaps blacked out, before they even arrived. Carefully, Victor carried him in his arms out of the cab and back up to the penthouse, set him in a spare bedroom, wiped off his face, set his pair of glasses he was wearing on the nightstand, and...he found it hard to stop looking at this beautiful, sleeping man. He figured this was probably creepy, but he insisted to himself that he needed to make sure he seemed okay before he left him alone. He forced himself to go back into his own newly claimed room after more than a couple of minutes.

It was also incredibly stupid, he thought to himself. He shouldn’t be this infatuated with a Mortal. Especially some vomit encrusted one that got himself drunkenly kicked out of a night club. And yet, he could still feel this man’s hand on his neck.

He didn’t know anything about this man. He didn’t even know his name. He could already be seeing someone. He might be a completely intolerable person sober.

As expected, Chris wasn’t home. Being back home with wifi, he checked his phone to see several texts asking where he was and one saying that he wouldn’t be back in the penthouse tonight. First night here, Chris already proved he didn’t really need his company, seeing he found someone to spend the night with.

To be fair, Victor technically found someone else, too. In a way.

He decided he needed a few more shots of vodka before he could think of sleep.

...

Victor woke up at 10 am the next morning. Far earlier than he wanted to.

Immortals got hangovers functionally in the same way Mortals did. They never got nauseous or threw up, but they still got painful headaches that made Victor want the entire world to go away. Especially the sunlight glaring into his bedroom and onto his face.

It took him a few moments through his mental fogginess before he had a clear memory of the night before. He remembered that he was in New York City to spend time with Chris, ended up in a club, left the club, and met--!

He quickly tried to scramble out of his bed, getting tangled in his sheets and tripping as he tried to pull his pants on, to see if he was still there. Perhaps he left already. Perhaps he was still asleep. Perhaps he was awake and didn’t remember anything and felt scared and sick and--!

Victor slowed down and ran his hands through his silver hair. He sighed. He shouldn’t be this concerned for the man. Whether or not he was still here, whether or not he was terrified out of his wits, it wouldn’t really matter for more than a day or so, when he would ultimately forget ever waking up here. He wondered how the Powers that Be would rewrite these memories for him.

Yet, he couldn’t help but find himself concerned. He almost needed him to still be here.

Wandering into the living room, he let out a sigh of relief when he saw that the man still was.

The man seemed a lot calmer than the one he spoke to last night. He was sitting on the sofa, wearing the same collared shirt and pair of briefs. His head was hung low and his hands were tightly gripping his thighs. He looked equal parts stressed and melancholic.

“Good morning,” Victor offered him quietly and gently. He walked towards him. The other man’s head looked up at him and then quickly shot back down. He probably had no memory of how he got here, be it from the alcohol or Victor’s Immortality. Victor didn’t want to startle him, so he walked forward quietly before sitting a few feet away from him on the sofa. The other man barely flinched.

“Do you remember anything about last night,” Victor asked calmly. The man started shaking slightly before shaking his head no, a few tears seeming to form in his eyes. He was probably terrified of what could have happened the night before. 

“I...I didn’t touch you. If that’s what you’re worried about,” Victor added. The man slowly raised his head to hesitantly look at him. “You were kicked out of the club with no pants and too incoherent to find your way home, so I offered to either get you a hotel room nearby or let you stay here. You said you would rather come with me, so I brought you home and put you in a spare bedroom. You fell asleep in the cab ride home. So, I guess I did touch you, in that I carried you up here, but I didn’t touch you in any way for you to be worried about.”

“I came here with no pants?” the man asked. His voice still had a Japanese accent, but it was a lot less prominent sober. It was a nice voice, and one that Victor couldn’t help but think that he wouldn’t mind hearing forever.

“Yes, you were kicked out of the club by two bouncers for reasons I don’t know. We can try and call the club to see if they were found. I can also take you to your cell phone service provider to see if we can track your phone down. If you had a wallet with credit cards, you should call your bank to report them stolen. I can give you some money to--”

“Why would you help me?”

Victor was taken aback. He didn’t exactly sound accusatory, but his face and tone was unreadable. After a few moments of thinking he responded.

“It just seemed like the right thing to do.”

The two sat in silence for a few long seconds.

“My name is Yuuri,” the other man finally said, looking back into his lap, “Unless I already told you that last night. In which case, I’m telling you again. I guess. I mean I probably did. B-But uh, since I don’t remember anything, I thought maybe I should tell you anyway. Maybe you already introduced yourself yesterday, and in which case I’m sorry for asking again, but like I said, I can’t remember so--”

“I’m Victor Nikiforov,” he interrupted his nervous ramblings, “and no, we didn’t exchange names yesterday. It’s nice to formally be introduced, Yuuri.”

“O-Oh,” Yuuri blushed. More awkward silence.

Victor stood up. “I’m going to make us both breakfast. I’m hungry, I’m sure you’re hungry, and eggs are good for a hangover. There should be extra clothes in a big closet in the room upstairs that you can change into. After breakfast, we can see about trying to find your things.”

“You really don’t have to--”

“I want to.”

...

Victor set down a plate of scrambled eggs, sliced banana, and toast in front of Yuuri, now wearing a loose v-neck and pants. (They were Chris’s, but he was sure Chris wouldn’t mind.) He wasn’t sure what sort of food Yuuri liked, so he figured eggs, a fruit, and something generic could work.

He wasn’t sure where he himself should sit. Yuuri was put at the end of the long dining room table. Should he sit next to him? Would that be too close? Maybe it would be better to sit across from him? But the table was so long, that he would be too far away. He wanted to be near Yuuri, after all. Sitting next to him would be the best idea then.

Victor realized that it was silly how much he was concerned about leaving a good impression on someone who wouldn’t remember him in a week. Still, he couldn’t help himself.

Yuuri looked at his plate, then up at him, then back to the plate. He still seemed extremely disoriented about the whole situation. He looked at the food questioningly, almost as if wondering if it was somehow poisoned or drugged.

Victor chose to ignore this.

“So Yuuri,” Victor said, putting his plate in front of the chair next to Yuuri, “Tell me more about yourself.”

Yuuri’s head shot up. He pondered for a moment and then spoke, “I’ve never been in a place this expensive before.”

“That’s irrelevant. I want to know about the real you,” Victor winked. Yuuri blushed again.

“I--Victor, why are you interested in me? Why should I trust you?”

Victor reached to the tea kettle he made up in the middle of the table and poured himself a cup of tea. He wasn’t sure how to answer. Maybe if he didn’t say anything, he could pretend he never heard the question.

Yuuri continued, “You say you didn’t do anything to me, but it’s hard to trust the word of someone with a multi million dollar penthouse covered in pornography.”

Victor spit out his tea.

“Am I wrong to worry?” Yuuri asked.

“First of all,” Victor asserted, grabbing a napkin to wipe up his face, “Those are my roommate’s things. He’s the one who lives here the most, I just live here seasonally. His name is Chris--here, see, you can see my text messages from him.” Victor reached for his phone out of his pocket and went to the messaging app and showed it to Yuuri. “See, you can see here...This one, him saying he won’t come home last night.” Yuuri took the phone and glanced at it. Reading the words on the screen seemed to relax him significantly.

“What do you and Chris do that allows you to afford this place,” Yuuri asked, still a little on guard. So much for Victor being the one to find out about Yuuri.

“We’re both...I guess you can say, we both happen to come from ‘Old Money’,” Victor responded. He amused himself with his clever answer. “What about you?”

“I...Well, I’m a college student. I’m 23, so uh...I’m technically a senior, but it’s taking me five years to graduate. My family, though, and myself I guess…We’re from Japan. They own a hot springs resort...We’re not rich, though, like I said. I wanted to study in America, um, so I decided to go to New York University. I work at a cafe, too, because I like to pay for my living expenses. Th-That’s part of why it’s taking me longer.”

“I’ve been to Japan many times,” Victor smiled, “It’s one of my favorite places. Are you from Tokyo?”

“N-No. I’m from the south...It’s a small town, called Hasetsu. Where are you from originally? You have an accent.”

“Saint Petersburg,” Victor answered on instinct. To be honest, although he knew he was Russian and his earliest memories were in Saint Petersburg, he wasn’t sure if he really was from there in his previous Mortal life. He had a faint childhood memory of it. He remembered the streets of it, a dog running alongside him, people who feel like they could have been his family. Yet, he could have been just visiting. It could have been a dream. Yet, every time he goes he has a strong feeling of nostalgia, of home, that he figures it must be. So that’s what he answered.

“I thought you were Russian,” Yuuri smiled slightly. He looked at the food once more, and after all of the previous hesitation, he started to eat.

“So what cafe do you work at,” Victor asked. He immediately regretted it. Yuuri would forget him, yet if he answered, Victor would have a way to find him again. That was a very dangerous road to go on. He hoped to whatever higher power that he would just answer “Starbucks” or something. Somewhere generic with a million locations where Victor could never be tempted to try and find him.

“A small, independently owned cafe called Eros,” Yuuri responded. He spun his fork around his plate of eggs absentmindedly. “It’s in Greenwich, outside of the university, which makes it convenient. I-I don’t know how much people from Russia like coffee, but it isn’t bad.”

So much for that.

“Maybe I’ll have to try it some time,” Victor answered in an overly flirty voice, despite his better judgement screaming at him.

Yuuri and Victor smiled at each other in silence. This time, the silence was much less awkward.

Yuuri broke it. “Sorry, your food is really good but...It’s hard to eat when I’m this anxious about losing all my things. Do you have a phone I can use…? Oh, I completely forgot, I should call my friend Phichit! I actually went to the club with him, and oh my god he must be worried sick. He might have called 911 and my parents in Japan and--”

“Yuuri, calm down,” Victor reached out and put a hand on his shoulder, “Everything will be okay. You can use our apartment’s landline phone right in the corner there and tell him that you’re okay.”

“Thank you,” Yuuri smiled graciously, and walked over to the phone. Victor was full himself, so he grabbed the dirty dishes and took them to the kitchen, allowing Yuuri some privacy on the phone. Or well, privacy from view, his words were abundantly clear.

“Phichit, it’s me!...Yes, I’m okay, I promise!..I’m at some guy’s house...NO, I didn’t, I just stayed the night there, we didn’t--I didn’t!...I’m not lying!...Phichit, STOP…PHICHIT...Okay fine, yes, he is, ridiculously so, but that’s not relevant to anything when he--we--I didn’t…Phichit, this is serious, I’m calling you because I lost my pants...Please don’t laugh at this, it has my wallet and phone and--How could you have possibly known?...You HAVE them?...Oh my god, and is everything still in the pockets?...My keys too?...Oh thank you!!!...Could you?...Okay, I’m near the south end of Central Park, at least I think I am, so can I meet you at the Apple Store in half an hour?...Yeah, I know, I couldn’t believe it either...It’s a penthouse too...Yes, I KNOW...Phichit, stop...I don’t think he’s even--...Fine, I’ll think about it if you’ll just STOP...Phichit, please just meet me in half an hour...Thank you!...See you then!”

“Sorry to eavesdrop, but that sounds like good news,” Victor laughed, walking back into the room. Yuuri turned about as red as he was when he was drunk.

“Sorry about that, my friend, he’s…”

“It’s fine.”

“I-I should get going,” Yuuri turned, heading towards the door, “He has all of my stuff and said he’d meet me, and I shouldn’t keep him waiting.”

“Alright.”

Yuuri reached the door, and right before he reached the doorknob he paused and turned back to Victor. He glanced at him for a moment, hesitating.

“I-I work tomorrow,” Yuuri stammered, “Until 2 pm. B-But afterwards, if you wanted to...You know…”

“Meet up with you?”

“To give you back these clothes I’m borrowing.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it. You can keep them. I’ll just--”

“Also to get to know each other.”

“Okay. 2 pm tomorrow at Eros then.”

Yuuri nervously nodded and left, closing the door a little too hard behind him.

Almost as quickly as he left, the door reopened.

“And who is that that just left?” Chris asked with a coy grin.

For once in his very long, eternal life, Victor wasn’t able to give Chris a witty comeback.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I want to thank those who have already left kudos/bookmarks ;o; If you enjoyed, but haven't already, please consider leaving a kudos! Comments are also GREATLY appreciated and would make my day! Compliments, constructive criticism, etc.
> 
> I'll try to update as much as possible, though I don't think it'll ever be within two days like this--I wrote the Prologue and this chapter consecutively. I have the entirety of the story outlined, and will try to update once every week or so. Of course, I will probably also gauge update speed and so forth based on feedback/etc.
> 
> This was kind of a set-up chapter still, so you can expect to heed the "memory loss" and "angst" tags more in future chapters. (No, Yuuri getting blackout drunk won't be the end of it.)

**Author's Note:**

> I really, really appreciate comments, be it positive or constructive! Please consider leaving a kudos if you enjoyed.


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